


The Art of Assumptions

by TheOwlPost



Category: Glee
Genre: Bullying, Dalton Academy, Fluff and Angst, M/M, kurt stays at dalton, transfer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOwlPost/pseuds/TheOwlPost
Summary: Wesley Montgomery did not like Kurt Hummel. At all. To be fair, their first interaction was the boy spying on them, and everything after that did little to make up for the lackluster first impression.





	1. Prologue

Wesley Montgomery did not like Kurt Hummel. At all. To be fair, their first interaction was the boy spying on them, and everything after that did little to make up for the lackluster first impression. 

From his over-the-top audition to his superior attitude, everything about Kurt was a blemish upon the clean face of Dalton, specifically the Acapella group that called themselves the Warblers. He knew something fishy was going on - one day this kid is spying for a rival show choir and the next he is dating the lead singer of the Warblers and entering the very group he was spying on! Wes wasn’t stupid - he knew what was going on. What had been dubbed the Jesse St James debacle had not stayed contained - instead spreading far and wide within the show choir community. No one knew the exact details, only that St James had infiltrated a rival school and seduced their lead singer before harshly breaking her heart mere weeks before the big competition. 

Kurt was sending up red flags left and right. As such, Wes couldn’t help but connect the ominous dots, dots that led to the ultimate devastation of their lead singer and the sabotage of the Warblers as a whole. He knew what Kurt was doing, but he seemed to be the only one. Wesley Montgomery did not like Kurt Hummel. At all. All Wes had to do now was expose him for the mole he truly was.


	2. Two Months Earlier

Two Months Earlier

 

Kurt slumped down in his seat in the back of the practice room, bored out of his mind as Mr. Schuester droned on and on about another mindless lesson. Friendship… tolerance… wordplay… he was sure it was something along those lines and none of those were on the top of his priorities right now. Sure, the New Directions put up a good front, but they were as selfish as they were ignorant. They acted like they were a family, but they only cared about themselves. After all, who really cared about the myriad of bruises on Kurt’s back, the immense amount of clothes stained from slushies, and the long list of hospital visits when compared to their own “struggles.” For instance, last week, no one had noticed when Kurt came in with half his face painted black and blue but had fawned over Mercedes when she walked in two seconds later, covered in ice from her first slushy in months. They may preach inclusiveness, but, for all their words, he would never be anything but invisible to them. 

Kurt was jolted into focus by the bell. He slowly stood, mindful of his aching bruises and cuts, and swung his bag over his shoulder. Slowly walking behind the rest of the group he prepared himself for the warfare of the hallway. 

Sure enough, as soon as he separated from the main group he was harshly shoved into the long row of lockers, aggravating his already abused back. Kurt slid down the cool metal slowly, groaning in pain. 

“Faggot.”

The one word, even whispered as it was, hurt more than all the bruises on his back combined. Kurt stayed there, lying on the floor in pain, for another ten minutes passed and he was finally able to move - finally able to breathe. He shuffled into his AP french with a small smile towards his teacher and took a seat in the back, missing the worried look she sent his way as she took in his sorry state as well as the look of resolve that followed soon after. 

The rest of the day passed by in a blur and by the end of the day, Kurt’s nerves were fried. After the initial attack, there had been nothing but radio silence from the jocks. He jumped at every sound, tiptoed around every corner, expecting an attack at any turn. The less the jocks did, the more his fear grew. He couldn’t help but think that this was all leading up to something big, something worse than before. When the idiots of the school start thinking, nothing good ever comes.

_______________________________________________________________

Well. He wasn’t wrong. 

Kurt held a shaking hand up to his lips as he sat on the dirty locker room floor. His neck was aching and beginning to bruise from where Karofsky had pinned him against the wall and his eye was beginning to swell from the punch Kurt’s face had received on the way out. 

Sitting there in the gross, damp cesspool that was the boy's locker room Kurt had never felt more alone. Slowly, he picked up his phone and dialed the one person he knew he could count on - the one person who understood him and saw him for who he really was. 

Slowly, he picked up the phone and dialed Blaine Anderson.

“Hello?” The boy in question answered on the first ring. “Kurt?” He was met with shaky, heavy breathing on the end of the line. 

“Kurt? Are you ok?” 

Silence.

“What happened?”

Silence.

“I’m on my way.”


End file.
